My Last

Until now, I’m holding on to what I call Faith.

Holding the rosary tightly against my stuttering heart

I still hoped for the dawn to come in blithe,

Lifting some of my melancholy by a bit.



If I would be asked of what I want to do,

I’d say I want to feel the rough face of the moon.

The ivory-white luster illuminating the steady surface of the lake,

Like the velvety fabric of a queen’s drape.



Lying here on my bed looking old, creased, and fragile.

Like a mirror made centuries ago with thousands of slashes from a diamond.

Watching as the night and the moon made their final etude,

Droplets of rain slowly began falling to conclude.



When all was quiet and only the howl of an owl can be heard,

Memories flooded my mind and grieved.

I made my final bow and kissed the rosary,

And surrendered everything to our God Almighty.